She was wearing a dark coat-dress and a big black fox wrap which she loosened and flung off as she came into the room. It was notable that the Colonel, who had every right to complain of her unpunctuality, did not attempt to criticize her for her late arrival, other than to make mild reference to the fact that he had expected her earlier.
She looked around the room.
“Where is Millet?” she asked.
“Millet is working on the telegrams,” he said and she nodded, satisfied.
“Everything is ready now,” she said. “Did you see Boltover, Mr. Mulberry?”
He rose and came toward her with that noiseless step of his.
“A most amiable young man,” he said in his unctuous singsong voice, “such a pleasant young man! We had a very long talk together.”
“And?”
“We arranged everything.”
He took a long envelope from his pocket, pulled out a stiff parchment and handed it to her with the gravity and deference of an ambassador delivering a treaty to his sovereign lady. She ran her eyes quickly over the document, turned its crinkling page and read rapidly to the last flourishing signatures.
“That’s all right,” she said and returned the document.
The long table had been placed in the middle of the room and to this, without instructions, the whole of the company had drawn. Colonel Westhanger sat at one end and Kate at the other. From her bag she took a thick roll of manuscript, cut the strings that fastened it and smoothed the sheets out before her. One by one she called their names at the same time handing them, in some cases one, in other cases two or three sheets covered with writing.
“You have a week to master all this,” she said, “and in a week’s time we will meet again and I will see that everybody understands.”
She caught Jacques’ eye.
“About men?” she said. “How many have you arranged for?”
“Sixty,” he said; “I have been bringing them into England for the past month.”
“Will sixty be enough?” she asked dubiously. “How many did we use for the Bank of Edinburgh?”
“That was a different job,” said Jacques; “we had to cut through thirty feet of concrete. I used two hundred and twenty in relays of thirty.”
“Sixty will be quite enough,” she said after a moment’s thought. “You will see that I have allowed only for fifty, but if they are the right kind of people—”
“They are all good men, most of them from Italy, a few of them from France and one Portuguese. They are the pick of my men and represent years of organisation.”
“You have full details there, Cunningham,” she said, turning to that dour man. “I took a shorthand note about the gold train, the driver and the officials who will be on the train and I have all their addresses except one. You will find a cross against that; I think the address is Berne Street, Seahampton, but I had no time to verify it.”
“This will be easy,” said Cunningham, reading his instructions; “these times won’t be altered, I suppose?”
“If they are, I shall know all about it,” said the girl. “Everyone must make a note of those instructions in your own code and you must do it pretty quickly.”
“What’s the hurry?” asked Westhanger, who, alone of the men about the table, had received no paper.
“I want to see every sheet burnt before we leave the room,” she said.
The Colonel frowned.
“But—” he began.
“I want all the papers burnt before we leave the room,” she said again emphatically.
Her uncle growled but the others knew her well enough to realize that she had an excellent reason. Each man in his own way, some in notebooks, some on the back of loose sheets of paper faithfully transcribed the instructions, using their own pet abbreviations, their own particular symbols and one by one, as fast as they completed their copies, the girl collected the papers, heard the instructions read over, corrected one, amended another and finally gathering all the sheets in her hand, she walked to the fireplace, deposited them in the grate and set a lighted match to them.
She watched them burn until they were black ash and put her foot upon them crushing the embers to dust.
“Are you nervous?” asked the Colonel sarcastically.
“Are you?” she asked coolly.
“Well it does seem a little—”
From the corner of the room came a soft but insistent purr.
The men jumped to their feet.
“Put away the tables quickly,” said the girl under her breath.
They separated the table into three parts. With an agility remarkable in one of his years the Colonel flung a cloth over each, lifted a pot of flowers on to one, arranged a photograph on another and left the third to the bezique players. The girl seated herself at the piano, opened it and began a soft movement from “Rigoletto.”
“Sing,” she said under her breath.
The obedient Mr. Mulberry shuffled up to her side. He had a pleasing voice and the girl picked up the strain. …
“I am sorry to disturb the harmony,” said Michael Pretherston from the doorway.
“May I ask what is the meaning of this intrusion?” demanded Colonel Westhanger haughtily as half-a-dozen Scotland Yard men crowded into the room behind their chief.
“It is what is vulgarly known as a raid,” said Michael. “Everybody will remain where he is while I run a foot rule over him. Parsons, you will take these gentlemen one by one into an adjoining room and search him most thoroughly. Mrs. Gray,” he called to the door and a stout middle-aged woman with a pleasant face appeared, “you will perform the same kind office for Miss Westhanger.”
“Why not ‘Kate’?” asked the girl scornfully. “You are getting polite in your old age, Mike.”
“Miss Westhanger,” he repeated suavely.
“Suppose I refuse to be searched?”
“Then I shall convey you to a vulgar police station,” said Michael, “and the process of search will be carried out in uncongenial surroundings.”
“I take it that you have a warrant?” demanded Colonel Westhanger.
“My dear Colonel!” said Michael. “Do you imagine I should come without having gone through
